Dreadfully Busy
by I Brake For Bishounen Boys
Summary: Mycroft Holmes, in a rare moment of energy, pops out of the country quickly to invade a small city-state for his lady love. Mycroft/Anthea, some Sherlock/John tacked on but not central.


_A thoroughly silly romp. It turns out, yes, Mycroft is that powerful, and that he also likes to do fieldwork of his own now and again. Mainly written so I could have my Mycroft/'Anthea' and eat it too. Secondary characters for the win!_

_Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes is not mine in any capacity. No matter how hard I wish it._

Dreadfully Busy

Sherlock and John were stuck at home. It was John's day off at the clinic, and apparently the criminal classes had decided to be boring today, because Sherlock Holmes himself was lounged on the couch, well his legs were anyhow, and reading a book. It was a cheap Harlequin romance John had bought for him at the convenience down the street, but John, who readily admitted to the same sort of literary indulgence now and again, was just happy to see the detective read for once. For someone with such substantial knowledge, it was downright alarming to see how little he bothered with recreational reading.

John then watched Sherlock get bored with the book. It was a very visual process. First Sherlock frowned, and turned the book upsde-down, continuing to read for a few seconds before skipping to the last page to see if his hunch about the ending were right. Then he sighed, and started tearing the pages out to make origami animals.

Now, John was always saddened and repulsed to see the dismemberment of a book, not to mention one that had cost him seven quid. So he folded his newspaper on his lap and started a conversation.

"So, Sherlock, what exactly does your brother do? I mean... his sphere of influence can't possibly be as big as you say it is," he hazarded.

Sherlock looked up from a newly-made paper crane whose lopsided wings he was flapping.

"It can and it is," he said with the brusque air of someone who did not want to speak of the unpleasant matter any further. "He is the laziest man to ever hold so much power. If he could, he would do it all from his bedroom and never come out."

And with that, the matter was dropped unceremoniously.

Several more paper cranes were made to fill the void.

Meanwhile, several feet away from the city-state of Sadis, Mycroft Holmes placed his binoculars back into the large pouch of his custom-made explorer's vest. He was shaded from the high sun by two attendants who each strategically held a large black umbrella over his head. Within arm's reach was an entire tea service (well, in London it was tea-time), similarly shaded and decked with all of his favourite sweets. His two most trusted assistants were being treated in much the same way. The rest of his entourage were probably sitting in the tank, playing pinochle.

"It's noon," he finally pronounced. "Everyone who's not a mad dog or Englishman is inside fanning themselves with the Sadisii Post."

"Do you warrant we'll encounter that much resistance from mad dogs and Englishmen?" asked his gunman, 'Anthony'.

"If Mr Noel Coward is to believed, I can confidently say that this should be easier than misplacing a few Democratic votes in Florida."

Mycroft licked his lips in anticipation, and then turned to 'Anthea', who had a white streak of sun lotion on her nose and was still very much absorbed in her BlackBerry. Some people tanned and some people burned in the sun, however Anthea was one of those people who_ browned_, giving her a golden and almost luminescent tone. Mycroft kept this discovery stashed away safely in his mind, and continued.

"Are you sure about this, dear?" he asked kindly.

"About what?" Anthea said startled, and looked around. "Oh. Yeah. Mum always wanted somewhere warm to go to during the Christmas hols. This place is nice."

_The things one does for love_, though Mycroft with a mental long-suffering sigh. He drained the last of his tea and stood up.

"Well, I suppose we'd better commence before noon-hour passes, gentlemen. Have we got all our passports ready? Brilliant. Off to the border guard's!"

It turned out the border guard was not accustomed to encountering a large group of weaponized British tourists requesting entry into Sadis. The setback had, fortunately, been anticipated. Anthony dispatched the poor fellow with a tranquilizer dart that could have calmed down a rhinoceros, and they continued, subduing all mad dogs and Englishmen they encountered in the same manner.

"Get them out of the sun, lads. We don't want anyone dying of heat stroke on us," Mycroft said as he strolled up the main street just a little ahead of his tank. "Oh, they have _gelato_ here, 'Anthea'. Make a note. We'll likely all be peckish after the standard is raised at the Sadisii city hall."

"Your brother's texting you," 'Anthea' said as some sort of response, and handed the phone to Mycroft, who squinted to see the text past the sun's glare.

Need confidential documents  
>-SH<p>

Mycroft sighed, and responded.

Dreadfully busy at the moment  
>Mycroft Holmes<p>

In London, Sherlock Holmes smirked and continued to pester his brother regardless of how 'busy' he was. He didn't see the news broadcast on the bloodless and apparently British invasion of Sadis, and would not hear of the news until five days later, when Mycroft would invite him to dinner with 'Anthea''s family.

It was then that Sherlock Holmes vowed to find something classier and more infinitely priceless than a city-state for Dr John Watson.

He has to this day never succeeded.


End file.
